The Wonders of Modern Medicine

We have cameras that can see to the bottom of the ocean.
We can see the tiniest of microbes.
We can see blood vessels and nerves so clearly that a surgeon can reattach them.
We have a camera that can take pictures on Mars. MARS!!! The planet... Not the chocolate bar.

You know what we don't have? The ability to see two inches into my body just under my belly button to see my freakin' girlie parts. Where exactly is my uterus that it is so hard to find? Is there a lead curtain in front of it? Is there an army protecting it? What is this mystical method of protection that renders modern medicine useless?!?

It is apparently my bladder.
Seriously? Bladder?
With the wonders of modern technology, the only was to get a decent picture of this elusive organ, is to fill my bladder up to a point where I want to weep. Why does it need to be so full that I would actually rather just pee myself in the waiting room without giving it a second thought than try and last another minute in this agony?!?

I'm going to just mention quickly that having a uterus and not planning on using it for reproduction, is like owning an apartment and never renting it. Just have it there... Doing nothing but causing grief. Vandals break in and trash the place. It costs you money and and maintenance and then bleeds you dry. (Pun intended)

Seriously, they need to remove this thing along with the birth of you last child.

Anyway, just when you think you can a actually hear you bladder ripping at the seams, they call you in. Yay! You get to lay down which somehow makes it easier... But not for long.
Now you get to endure at least ten minutes of someone pushing what looks like a whacked out hot wheels car over your body. Not your entire body... Just on top of your stretched out bladder. Because this seems like a good idea.
Fill it up, and then poke it for awhile. Awesome.
I've actually had the tech tell me my bladder was too full and I could go and pee "a little". Now you would think I'd be happy, but no. I'm kind of a believer in the whole 'All or Nothing' school of thought. Seriously? A little? Whatever....
So it is finally over and they tech says I can leave and go.... ( not sure what the end of that sentence is because by then I have usually knocked them over into a garbage can on my way to the nearest bathroom.)

It is over; I have survived. Then I hear, "have you ever had an internal ultrasound?"
My blood goes cold and I fall to floor weeping. If you've had one done, you know where I'm going with this. If you haven't, I'll save that little surprise for you to find out on your own.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go pee for the eightieth time today.

Hacked Again!!!!!

Seriously?!?! This is the last time I will be changing my email address and using Yahoo. If I get hacked again, I will be taking my email business elsewhere! What is so attractive about my email? It is just the usual generic crap. No government secrets or photos of crashed UFO's.
Just boring sales from Pottery Barn, eBay updates, blah blah blah...
So as I frantically try and change everything over before deleting the compromised account, emails are flying out at lightning speed! I especially love the weight loss ads being sent to my seriously skinny 16 year old and the hair loss and male enhancement ads being sent to my kids school trustee. Awesome!!
By the time I manage to create a new address and change everything over, the hacker has managed to send crap to everyone in my contacts. Who has time for this? Is someone out there seriously spending time trying to get into my email so they can spam my friends? Omg! That is so sad! I'm not that interesting! Trust me.

So in the mean time, if you get a message from me offering time share deals, weight loss plans, or 5 easy tips for a better sex life.... Just delete.
Please.

Day Make up vs Evening Make up (learn the difference)

I love the new smokey look eyeshadow that you see on tv and make up ads. The problem is that it is not only difficult to replicate, (without looking like you're Chris Brown's latest victim), it's also not an appropriate look for 98% of the time. A wedding, or any formal event this would look great. Going to get groceries, not so much. Since the look is usually paired with false eyelashes you end up looking like a raccoon whore with bamboo shoots growing up of your eyelids. That is why is is a NIGHT time look only. Lets face it, harsh sunlight is not our friend.
Except for Charlize Theron and Cindy Crawford... And they can both just bite me.
Everyone should have a friend that can tell them, "ease up on the face paint Missy. You look like Ronald McDonald." If not, you will be mocked. Maybe not directly to your crayola coloured face, but it will happen.
The only possible exceptions to the "No False Eyelashes and Heavy Shadow" rule are girls participating in a dance competition within the next two hours or drag queens.
The dancers still look ridiculous, but at least they have a reason.
The drag queens however, just look fabuloussssss!!!
And just in case you think you are fooling people with the falsies (lashes and otherwise) and try to get away with claiming its all natural.... You're not. So as Bob Newhart would say,

STOP IT !!!

(Just for giggles, search 'Bob Newhart Stop It' in YouTube)

Valentines Day. Why I love/hate it

Valentines Day is just around the corner. Ugh.  Every single woman gets her red satin heart patterned panties in a bunch over this day every year.   They all say its stupid and who needs it!!!  And then secretly weep while they consume an entire heart shaped box of chocolates.  Okay not EVERY woman...but quite a few.
I love that for one day a year, we are required to proclaim our love for our partners.  Only one day.

No more, no less.
Sad.

As if the concept of this day isn't weird enough, the fact that we are soooooo damn busy in our world today, we can't even call it valentines day. Now it's more often than not, referred to as V Day.  Am I the only one that finds this disturbing and perhaps somewhat vulgar?  Maybe because it sounds to close to VD.  Which for everyone over the age of 20 is what STDs were called a million years ago.   Even if it doesn't bring to mind mental images of oozing sores on someone's junk, it also sounds like an abbreviated way to say Vagina Day.  I'm going avoid the obvious connection to valentines day and connect it to another type of v day. 

 Pap day.  

Either way, not very romantic.  Even if my ob/gyn shows up with flowers and chocolate will that day ever be worth celebrating.  
At any rate, I say celebrate love every day. Especially when your partner least expects it!  Don't become a Hallmark zombie and show up once a year with a card and over priced roses!   It means more when it isn't prompted by endless TV commercials.

That being said, if my husband doesn't produce something with a serious carat weight, I will be seriously upset. 

My Wedding Vows aka "No Yardwork"

Whenever a female friend of mine complains about having to do any type of yard work, be it mowing grass, planting, pulling weeds or shoveling snow, I invite them to have a quick peek at my world.  My usually response is,

"I don't do yard work.  If it happens outside; it's not my problem.  I had it put in my wedding vows."

Now obviously I didn't LITERALLY do this, although seeing the expression on the eighty year old priest that married us would have been a tiny little hoot! 

And before you get your undies in a knot, it has nothing to do with sexual sterotypes.  I just do not enjoy the outside stuff.  Let's face it, that's where the bugs are.

You see where I'm going with this.  I have never mowed a lawn in my life.  I grew up with an older brother and was therefore never required to attempt this chore.  Luckily we also had a gas run John Deere monstrosity of a mower that weighed a thousand pounds, so the likelihood of me being able to actually maneuver it was slim.  Call me spoiled if you wish, I do not care!  I'm also one of the few people on the planet who can not stand the smell of freshly cut grass.  To be perfectly honest, I would rather smell a skunk.  I'm serious!  So unless the grass has started to grow inside the house, it is none of my concern.  And frankly, if it IS growing in the house, and it's bugging you that much, feel free to fix the problem.  The same rules apply to snow.  While I have had some experience shovelling, I feel this task is best left to those more experience and trained for such tasks.  Like my teenage son for example.  Once in a blue moon, if it isn't too cold out, I will attempt to help out with the snow removal.  But in all honesty, my heart isn't in it.  What can I do?  I have given the job to my husband (who in turn has dragged a grumpy teenager into it) and if I change the rules now it would cause chaos in an otherwise fairly calm household.

 Who am I to rock the boat?  Stir the pot?  Make waves?

So this has been the rule in our house for the better part of 20 years.  I handle the insides, he handles the outsides. 

 Oh, unless the fridge needs to be cleaned out.  No way in hell I'm doing that!

New Email/Password Drama

OMG!!  I just spent the last half hour trying to log into my blog account.  I had to change my email address this past year thanks to some jackhole from Poland hacking into my account and sending spam to everyone in my contact list.  That was seriously awesome!  grrrrr
Now I am trying to change everything and Google won't let me.  Says my new address is already linked to something, blah, blah, blah.  I have changed passwords and crap so many times I have no idea what I'm doing.  I can't use my new address because Google, in its infinite wisdom, says that it is already in use...

YAH!!!  BY ME YOU MORON!!! 

I have now taught my laptop several new variations of well known curse words (as well as a few I've created on my own) and will have to try and sort this crap out.  Internet security is a great thing, provided it doesn't keep you out of your own accounts.  Personally, I think Google has a stick up its butt because most of my stuff is Yahoo related.  After this last problem, I think my loyalty to Yahoo has increased.  Although, it was a Yahoo account that was hacked and started this whole mess... but anyway, I digress...

So this guy from Poland, (I'm assuming its a dude, because lets face it; it was a douche thing to do and sounds like something a guy would do) ;o) manages to hack my account and I can't even log in to get my flippin' blog account up and running.  Feeling somewhat tech challenged?  Why yes I am thank you very much!
So I can hopefully keep this account because if I have to start from scratch I will be seriously pissed off... and to the peckerhead who caused all this grief...

Wal się!!!

Boneless Chicken Wings? I think not...

   All of a sudden there are various ads for restaurants advertising their

                      NEW Boneless Chicken Wings. 

Wings are one of my absolute favourite foods of all times, so I asked myself, how on earth do they get the little bones out those suckers???  Long story short, my husband ordered them recently (basically because he doesn't understand my love for wings and will not even try to eat something that takes that much time to consume.  Like most men, he's a stick a fork in it and eat... no muss, no fuss)  Anyway... he orders these "wings" and what he receives makes me laugh at first, then become angry.  Basically, they took chicken breasts (yuck) cut them into wing size strips and then cooked them in the wing sauce.  Seriously?  This somehow makes them wings?  So If I put the sacred wing sauce on my left foot it becomes a "wing"???  Calling it a wing doesn't make it true.  And if a person is too lazy to eat an actual wing, I say big deal!  My husband doesn't eat them and has managed to lead a fairly full life.  More wings for me!  Putting wing sauce on other pieces of meat no more makes them wings as putting baby powder on my ass makes me a baby.  Quit messing with the wings people!!

Another example of this sort of thinking is the ever popular, ice cream cake.  Just because something is "cake-shaped" it does not magically become a cake. 

    THERE IS NO CAKE IN AN ICE CREAM CAKE!!!! 

I want to make a meatloaf in a cake pan and market it as "Meat Cake".  Mmmm... that gets the taste buds rockin'!   So you serve this psuedo cake thing at a birthday... what do you put on it?  A real cake would have ice cream put on it, so you see where this is going...
Why must we slice and serve ice cream? 

          A scoop not good enough for you princess?!? 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against the creation itself (I used to decorate the things way back in the day) but please don't call it a cake.  The shape of the food does not dictate what it becomes.  Call it what it is. 
So hey there Mr. Ice Cream Cake... get over yourself!  You're just a pile of frickin ice cream!

It's just a name you say?  It's false advertising and I for one will be it's victim no longer! 

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and put some make-up on and become a Cover-Girl.